


Keep the Faith

by Counselor



Category: National Football League RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counselor/pseuds/Counselor
Summary: Odell is excited to play with Jarvis in Cleveland. He’s even more hyped that the Browns are absolutely going to contend for a Super Bowl title.But as that old saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. And the best laid plans of misfortunate Cleveland are no exception to this rule.
Relationships: Odell Beckham Jr./Jarvis Landry
Comments: 7
Kudos: 7





	Keep the Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This could be longer, I realize, and it might seem a bit rushed. I’ve just been shorthanded on time lately. Apologies if this seems a little shallow as a result! I tried. :)

🅸

Odell Beckham stood on the front porch of his house, decked out in Browns team apparel. An orange sweatshirt shielded his lithe upper body from the gusts of wind, brown sweatpants held up by an elastic waistband. He hadn’t originally loved the color palette of his new team— as a matter of fact, he’d hated it. However, Jarvis had eventually brought him around to a verdict of ‘tolerable’.

Regardless, that morning he was feeling like wearing something expressive, but that impulse had to be reluctantly shelved in favor of more traditional garb. The media had been circling like vultures lately— not that they ever really stopped— so he figured he’d better kill two birds with one stone. Support for his new team, check. Relative anonymity compared to his usual flamboyance? Also check.

He was jolted from his thoughts when a loud ‘HOOONK’ rang in his ears, echoing across the suburb. Lifting his gaze, he saw Jarvis Landry in his black Rolls Royce, grinning a mischievous, pearly white smile. Odell walked down the driveway and opened the side door, sliding into the passenger seat. He gave his teammate a pointed look.

“Bro, you done woke up the whole ‘hood... it’s five in the mornin’, man!” he complained.

“Sorry,” Jarvis apologized sheepishly. “Just seemed like you was on a planet of your own, you know how you get.”

“Huh. Yeah, sure I was,” Odell muttered lamely.

“You too much of a pretty boy, ‘Dell. You always been easy on the eyes, stop tryin’ so hard,” Jarvis teased as the car backed out of the driveway, into the street.

“Hey! It’s a damn hobby,” Beckham defended himself. It was kind of freakish how often Jarvis knew exactly what he had been thinking about.

“Aight, but you better keep it cleaner than that when the reporters start takin’ shots,” Landry relented, smirking. He started to drive.

⠀

• • •

⠀

They walked into the facility, and after a bit of direction from Jarvis, Odell walked into the meeting room alongside him. There, the team was seated, and they all looked back at him when he came through the door. The head coach, Kitchens, he’d heard, seemed like he was in the middle of a presentation to the team. But this entrance was apparently planned, as he grinned at Odell and motioned for him to come stand up front.

“Gentlemen, this is our new acquisition, wide receiver Odell Beckham Jr. I, along with many others, believe he can be a key player to our great organization this year. Let’s give him a warm welcome to the team!” Kitchens introduced him, and was met with hearty applause.

He and Jarvis went and sat down for the remainder of the lecture, relieved that it was merely introductional, so they hadn’t missed anything too important in the first half. Once it was over, they got up, and some teammates began to walk over. The first was a young Caucasian player with a moustache and beard, quite a recognizable face.

“Name’s Baker Mayfield, and I’ll be the starting quarterback here. I’m glad to have you on board, watched you a lot while you were still with the Giants. You’ll be a great help to our receiving corps, and I’m looking forward to playing some great football with you,” he introduced himself.

Odell shook his hand. “Thanks man, appreciate it. Watched you a lot at Oklahoma, so I know we’re gonna have a lot of fun this year,” he replied, to which Baker gave a smile.

A second man, shorter, stockier, and African-American, walked up to stand beside Mayfield. His chocolate gaze looked slightly up at Beckham.

“Nick Chubb, running back,” he said in a low voice, offering a handshake.

Taking it, Odell was struck by just how strong the other man was. “Nice to meet you,” he responded.

Nodding, Chubb walked away. Baker shrugged.

“That’s Nick for ya. Hardest worker out of all of us, but not too talkative. Maybe something I should start doing, too,” he said with a laugh.

“Anyway, see y’all around,” Baker said as he picked up his stuff and left in the direction Chubb had gone.

Another man walked up to them, taller than Mayfield and as muscular as Chubb. “I’m Myles Garrett. Pleased to not have to hit you again this year, Mr. Beckham,” he said, which elicited a laugh from Odell.

“Man, you a baller, and you funny as hell. I already know this about to be fun,” he said, smiling.

“Ay, thanks man,” Garrett responded.

With that, they had met the team, and the preparation had begun.

🅸🅸

Stepping through the doorway of the locker room, Odell filed into the crowd of Browns that was forming at the mouth of the tunnel. He looked to his left at the familiar face of Landry, and to the right at Garrett. Myles returned his look with a smile beneath the cage-like facemask of his helmet.

“You ready, ‘Dell? I know you from the Big Apple, and trust me when I tell ya these folk out here get louder. Real loud! You oughtta get pumped up ‘s what I’m sayin’,” the linebacker said with enthusiasm.

“You know it, nine-five. Not sure about all the dissin’ on NYC, but I digress, I can handle some noise,” Beckham replied, smirking a bit.

Garrett dapped him up and nodded, a glint in his eye.

“Aight, then. Let’s give ‘em something to cheer for.”

With that, their stampeding entrance onto the field at FirstEnergy Stadium commenced, the roar of the sold-out crowd on the banks of the Erie louder than it had been in a decade.

Odell looked out upon the sea of fans donning orange and brown, and decided that he liked the color scheme a bit more from this perspective. The energy of excitement in the air here wasn’t the same as how it had been in New York. This game wasn’t important because it was in the middle of the biggest city in America, or because it had a primetime spot on television. It was important because it really meant something.

He felt a hand on his back guiding him away from the center of the field, to the sideline, and snapped out of his trance.

“I knew you’d like it here,” Jarvis said happily, bouncing on his toes with excitement.

Odell shook his head, smiling. “We’ll see how it goes.”

_In short, it did not go very well._

He ran his routes like they had planned, occasionally breaking away from the man covering him. But every time he’d look back for the ball, Baker had either been sacked or had checked down. A few times he did try and fire the ball deep, but all attempts were knocked down. He did manage a couple catches, but overall it was a very frustrating game.

He could only sit and watch from the sidelines as Garrett and the defense had no answers for the Titans, Derrick Henry rushing through them with ease, bruising the physically inferior secondary after juking past the linebacking core. Myles could only do so much, and it showed in his fuming every time he returned to the sideline. They fell to Tennessee 43-13 at home in their first game of the season.

This would be emblematic of their struggles the rest of the way through.

• • •

_The next few games were hit or miss, with Odell getting some targets and hauling in some passes, but it didn’t truly feel like things were clicking. Baker seemed distressed and unorganized, and there had been talk of fundamental regression on his part in the media. Chubb was consistant, being a large reason of why they sat at 2-2 after four games. Garrett and the defense had also done better after the first game, which helped._

_However, the rest of the season would not be so kind. A losing streak of four games would put the team at 2-6, as a result of Kitchens being revealed tonot have a clue what he was doing. The three-game winning streak that followed gave Jarvis hope, but it was all downhill from there. The Cleveland Browns finished the season with a record of 6-10, missing the playoffs._

🅸🅸🅸

⠀

_“Now, here’s the question of the day; How do the Cleveland Browns recover from such a disappointment of a season?”_

_“I think there’s an obvious answer here, Skip. They won’t.”_

Odell clicked the power button on his remote, the TV screen fading to black and speakers going silent. Quietly, he stood and walked to the staircase. Soft footfalls were sideline toe-taps, but his thoughts were already far out-of-bounds.

Water cascaded down contours and steam wafted to the ceiling as he showered. He felt numb, remembering all the hype and excitement that had preceded the events of the past season. The synergy between him and Jarvis. Baker’s brash confidence. Nick’s quiet work ethic. Myles’ booming laugh and infectious leadership. Meeting the guys. Coach’s belief in him.

Then, the downward spiral. Baker’s lost and defeated countenance, slumped on the bench. Jarvis’ desperate optimism until the last possible moment, and subsequent disappointment. Nick getting stuffed on predictable draw runs. Myles bludgeoning Rudolph with his own helmet. Coach’s complete loss of control and ineptitude, after leading them to believe that he could be trusted.

Most of all, his failure to do what he had always been able to; become the star of the show. Baker had been willing to throw it his way, and Jarvis was happy to cut his targets in half if it meant getting his best friend involved. Nick had wanted the passing game to start humming, if it would have taken some weight off his back. Myles had felt the same.

_He had let them down._

Tears mixed with the flowing stream, water brackish going down the drain. He hung his head, eyes pressed shut, drops escaping the corners of his eyelids and falling like beads of glass. And like glass, his faith was not just chipped, but fundamentally cracked.

He sat on the cold tile floor of the chamber, the scalding water running down over him. Taking this moment to be, relatively speaking, fragile.

Like all things fragile, the reciever had eventually been broken.

⠀

• • •

⠀

_ding-dong_

Odell faintly stirred under a heavy blanket.

_ding-dong_

He sat up in the bed, pushing the blanket off of himself and rubbing his eyes.

“The hell...”

_DING-DONG_

He groaned. “I get it, alright? Coming, christ,”

Walking down the stairs, he made his way to the front door and opened it to see none other than Jarvis Landry, standing on the front porch with a concerned expression.

“Can I come in?” he asked, to which Odell nodded.

They sat down on the sofa. Beckham stared at the ground, but he knew Landry was looking right at him anyway.

“You holdin’ up alright?”

“No.”

“How come, ‘Dell?”

“How come, Jarvis? It’s ‘cause I let the team down this year, that’s why. I coulda gotten open more often, I coulda been a better teammate to y’all, I coulda gotten open more... damn, I coulda...”

His eyes were tearing up again. He wiped them.

“Damnit.”

Jarvis went over to sit beside him, putting a hand around his shoulder.

“Odell, I know shit’s been tough. But you can’t control everything. Baker played bad, it ain’t just you. We got a bad apple at head coach, that ain’t you,” he insisted.

“We gonna get ‘em next year, ‘Dell. Promise you that.”

“For real?”

“For real.”


End file.
